The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1887-08-18

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as the flower / named her after! Why,
look st her picture here-a veritable
Marguerite, with innocent, baby eyes,
and a veil of faxen hair-tit for a
poem or a picture, indeed, but not for
q wife-my wife! viii she hold me
bound? Have ruined my whole ca
reer by moment of ttthlongghtless follyP'
Not if 1.-The ruin of his whole career
meant marrying Daisy.
The very next post brought letter
that set him free. 1t contained but
few words, simple and to the point,
and was quite prettily written. He
turned It over and over curiously, his
first feeling of self-congratulation Civ
ing away to an odd sense of annoy
ance and loss.
"Cool enough, certainly. She
couldn't have been so fond of Ice
as mother thought And nicely
written. She must have improved a
good deal" He glanced at the pic
ture again. "She was lovely crea-
ture in those days, certainly, and with
proper. training, and culture, and dress,
and all that, might have developed
into a beauty. But, pshaw! don't
know how these country girls grow
up? Freckled and tanned, coarse and
awkward, tow-haired, ignorant, and
narrow-minded. | am well out of a
troublesome scrape, and have good
reason to be thankful"
He thought so in good earnest when,
i'll the following winter, he me at last
the woman whom he called "his Fate;'
at sight of her the light and ambitious
heart-that Daisy's simple loveliness
had touched, indeed, but never really
won-was stirred to its depths, and
awoke to a real passion.
"They tell me / am like your picture
of Marguerite, said Miss Armytage to
him, with her calm and gracious smile.
Il should like to see it, and Judge for
myself, if you have no objection"
He had an objection, though he
dared not say so,--it was such fanci-
full and idle one. In his soul he shrank
from allowing the woman whom he
loved to look upon the portrait of the
girl who had loved him, and whose
trust he had betrayed.
For he could better appreciate now,
what he had made Daisy suffer-now
that his own heart was awake.
"If she loved me, as l love this queen
of hearts. he thought, 'what must my
intidelity have cost herp Poor little,
innocent child! Heaven grant that
this woman, who holds my heart in her
hands, may not fling it away as l did
Daisy's"
And mentally he Notwithstanding
beside his Fate, and gazing with her
on the Marguerite seek out the
poor crushed flower he had worn so
lightly, and ask her pardon, and be to
her always true friend and brother.
Ida Armytage, the beauty and heiress,
stood long before the picture without
a word. 1t may have been the men,
DRY of Marguerite's sad story, or it
| may have been the pure and simple
loveliness of the f1ower-like face, that
touched her heart-but, as she gazed,
her own face grew elouded. and look
of pam and trouble grew in her deep
violet eyes.
Then suddenly she turned to Cyril.
She was stately always, but she seemed
imperious now.
'What was her namep" she asked
| him.
For his life he could not have re-
fused to answer; could not-even to
win her - deceive the woman he
adored.
Il called her Daisy" he said hum
bly,. "It was pet name only, she was
sort of distant cousin-I do not re-
member her real name-Daisy Vane. ,"
land did you love herP-I know
that she loved you--no need to tell me
that; l read it in those innocent eyes.
Did you love her, Cyril Danvers?"
Then he told her all. His vanity,
his falsehood, his awaking to real love,
his penitence for the wrong he had
done Daisy.
II never knew how great it was till
| loved you" he cried. For until
then | never knew what love was! Oh,
Ida, you are dearer to me than my
life! | have no wish to live unless
win you!'
And so feels Daisy still for your
she cried, with her lovely color mant-
ling high, and her violet eyes growing
deep and dark with emotion; ''or SO
she did feel few months ago, when |
saw her and learned her story.
know what her sorrow was! 1t was to
w III y Ou poSh w IiCi biittt L III Sb SouS LII
to meet and know your
Face to face they stood, looking into
each others eyes,-the woman flushed
and proud, the man pale as death.
you have deceived me, then-as |
did Daisy" he groaned; "'trified with
my true heart-as l did with hers!
Well" he turned away and covered
his face with his hands, Il am justly
punishedr'
She laid her soft white hand upon
his arm and looked up into his face
with smile like that of Marguerite
herself. The proud, imperious air was
gone; she was gentle. pleading, tender
now as Daisy could have been.
mol" she said. Il have not trifled
or deceived, for | love you Cyril!
Nay" for he would have caught her
in his arms, mot till you are free!
You are Daisy yet, unless she gives me
to you; l hold it nothing that she gave
you back your freedom when you asked
it;-what could her pride do lessP She
is not, to-day. the little simple girl
you won; she is called beautiful, and
she studied hard to be worthy of you,
and had ample means, left to her bv
a relative. She is no more the simple
child you cast away, but n proud
woman, Cyril. But pride could not
cure her lcye, and she grieved for
you, and vowed that | would bring
you back. Let me keep my word.
Come back with me to your mothers
house, and to Daisy and let her de-
eide our fate"
But he hesitated.
IF she should hold me bound" he
said-.'and l love youi"
But she smiled happily.
''She is too proud to hold you against
your will, she added. ''Will you
Gomez"
'.Anywhere-with you to leadr he
answered, passionately.
She held out her hand.
Il will lead you to your happiness, "
she said, quietly.
The evening sun bathed the land
scape in crimson splendor as they